The Details Suck
by Heath07
Summary: Maybe Theresa's mother is right. TheresaRyan-ish


Title: The Details Suck

Rating: PG

Author: Heath07

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: Maybe Theresa's mother is right. Theresa/Ryan-ish

Notes: I just got back online so this is old now, but never been posted before.  
  


February 23, 2004

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Theresa is not a liar by nature, but sometimes it can't be helped; sometimes a person has to lie to save someone from making a mistake.   
  


Theresa's mother says God is in the details. It seems a rather grand aphorism to Theresa. In fact, her mother uses it so much it's lost it's meaning. What did that statement really mean?   
  


When Theresa used to just rinse her toothbrush under the faucet and claim she had brushed her teeth 'really good, mama', she was always met with the same sentiment, 'God is in the details, mija' and the guilt would built up as she layed in bed until finally she would get out of bed and brush them proper.   
  


She used to go to confession every Sunday after mass and pray for forgiveness for all her sins. Back then she believed it could save her from her life.   
  


"God is in the details, mija," her mother tells her for what has to be the millionth time   
  


"Mama, you're so old fashioned," she says, crawling onto the couch and resting her head in her mother's lap like she used to do when she was a little girl.   
  


She thinks of when Ryan used to pull on her pigtails and chase her across the lawn with the hose, when they used to count the stars outside and try to block out the screaming that was happening inside the house--hers or his, it didn't matter which, her father had been a cruel bastard when he was alive.  
  


She closes her eyes, briefly, and draws up the image of Ryan in a suit living the life in some mansion on a hill and she wonders if he still counts the stars at night, he's certainly closer to them now; rich folk always seem to build their houses high up --'closer to God' her mother would say.  
  


Her mother pats her head and runs her fingers through her rich, dark hair, keeping up the illusion that her baby is still young enough to need her. Truth is, Theresa has been grown up for a long time and she is the one taking care of things these days.   
  


"Old fashioned? No, mija. Go to church, Teresita, be a good girl, not like those other girls I see on the corner. They won't amount to nothing. You're smart, you can do anything."   
  


"Okay, Mama." She rolls her eyes. 

"You don't believe me?" An indignant look from her mother who looks to Arturo for backup. "Mijo, tell your sister what I say is true."  
  


Arturo nods and when his mother turns her head he winks at Theresa and they exchange a knowing smile. "You know better than to argue with Mama, she's as stubborn as they come."   
  


"I know it." Theresa laughs, sitting up and folding her legs in front of her, hugging her body tightly.  
  


Arturo kisses their mother's forehead and he's out the door, off to do God knows what...   
  


God is in the details.   
  


Theresa feels a shiver run up her spine.  
  


Her mother covers her tired-looking face with her dark hand; the shift work is beginning to take its toll. "I have such crazy fears, Theresa, don't just humour me."  
  


Theresa leans over and takes her mother's warm, work-battered hand in her own. "I'm not, Mama," she assures. 

Her mother lets out a sigh, straining to stand as her bones creak. Theresa winces and notices the limp her mother has recently developed is getting worse. She tripped on one of the machines at work and didn't want to run the risk of getting fired, so she kept it to herself. She spends too much time on her feet for it to heal properly and when she thinks her children aren't watching she cries until the tears stop falling. "Okay. It's late and my bones are tired. Don't stay up too late."  
  


"I won't." She closes her eyes and all she can see is Ryan's gray-blue eyes and the hardwired expression of betrayal on his face.   
  


Theresa does not want to be like her mother. She does not want to be old at thirty-seven with a husband and one son all ready in the grave. She does not want a daughter who humours her sometimes and feels sorry for her the rest. She does not want this life. She does not want this life for Ryan either.

Theresa doesn't go to confession anymore, she's sinned far too many times to ever be redeemed, and even though the church teaches that every sin can be forgiven, there are just some things she could never say in some stupid dark box while a priest listens with half an ear. There are things she never wants to say to anyone else.   
  


When she leaves and lies to Ryan and tells him she doesn't love him, she can't feel guilty. It shouldn't matter, it shouldn't eat at her; she's not even a practising Catholic anymore and yet she finds herself brushing her teeth an extra minute and looking up at the ceiling as if some higher power might zap her.  
  


When she goes to bed, she kneels in front of it out of habit and makes the sign of the cross. A private confession seems less dangerous. Her eyes close, her lips tremble a little as she forms words. "Forgive me father for I have sinned..."

___________

end.  
  



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